


Last Night

by Hawkeye_918



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Humor, Team Bonding, i'm still bad at tags and summaries yes i know, i've been working on this for a month, if you need a laugh here you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 08:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye_918/pseuds/Hawkeye_918
Summary: It's Engie's birthday, and the team celebrates in typical fashion.The following morning, no one can quite recall all of what transpired.The team will have a hell of a time putting the pieces together.





	Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! i'm back at it again with another story (no I haven't forgotten about my other chaptered fic). if you need a good laugh today, I hope this suffices. Shoutout to the gang on discord for encouraging me in my bullshit *blows kiss*

It was easy enough for Engie to conceal the first birthday card. 

****

The colored envelope was postmarked from Bee Cave, Texas, and Engie identified his father’s scraggly handwriting immediately. His birthday wasn’t even for another two weeks, but his father always did like to take precautions. 

****

Engie just hid the card between two other pieces of mail and made his getaway.

****

The following week, things got a little more complicated.

****

There were significantly more envelopes, of various colors, originating from: his sister, various cousins, a great aunt, and a couple old college buddies.

****

Engie tucked the envelopes under his arm and prepared for a nonchalant, quick getaway. He was a private and reserved man, and the last thing he wanted was for the fellas to make a big deal out of his birthday. He knew they’d go all out (based on what had happened for other mercs’ birthdays over the years) and frankly, he just didn’t want that. He had enjoyed the celebrations in honor of his friends, but had made it this far without the team having one for him. There had been attempts to find out Engie’s birthday, of course (mostly Scout prying), yet all were fruitless.

****

Being first to mail call had its perks, and Engie was out the door of the base and heading towards his garage without drawing any attention to himself. And good timing, too. He could see the rest of the team would be going for their mail now. Perfect.

****

“Engineer!” A familiar German-accented voice called.

****

Or maybe not.

****

Engie turned around and sure enough, Medic was standing in the doorway, a medium sized cardboard box in hand.

****

“You forgot a package, mein Freund!” He shouted, waving.

****

“Thanks, Doc.” Engie replied with a smile, half-jogging back over to him.

****

“When is the big day?” Medic asked, pointing to the package.

****

“Beg yer pardon?” Engie asked, nervousness rising.

****

When he got closer, Engie noticed there were balloons drawn all over the sides of the box. His sister’s doing.

****

The jig was up.

****

“It’s on Friday.” Engie admitted a tad sheepishly.

****

“What’s on Friday?” Demo asked, head popping up behind Medic in the doorway.

****

“Oh, Engineer’s birthday.” Medic said casually, knowing full well what he was doing.

****

“ _What?_ ” Demo asked excitedly, face lighting up. “And ye didn’ tell us?”

****

Before Engie could reply, Demo was gone.

****

A minute later came the sounds of slightly muffled cheering and shouting, and then Demo returned.

****

“The lads have all decided, we’re gonna take ya out for yer birthday.” Demo grinned.

****

Engie opened his mouth to say that it was kind of everyone, but they didn’t have to, really, and--

****

Before he could say a word, Medic waved him off. “No need to thank us. It’s what friends are for!”

****

Medic smiled as he handed Engie the package.

****

Engie politely tipped his hardhat then fast-walked back to the safety of his garage.

****

It was Monday. T-minus one hundred and eight hours until Engie’s Big Birthday Party.

* * *

****

Heavy had been kind enough to volunteer to drive the team into town, and the gang piled into the back of the van. It was agreed that Medic would be the designated driver on the way home.

It had been decided (not by Engie) that they would go to a lowkey little bar in the nearest town, for the principal reason that it was the only drinking establishment no one in their group was banned from. One of the few establishments in town, period, that no one in their group was banned from.

Once at the bar, the team pushed a few tables together to make one long enough to seat all of them. The team sang Happy Birthday and For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow, and presented Engie with his gifts. Engie bashfully accepted.

And then, the drinking began.

Engie had had one glass of scotch on the rocks and was nursing his second when a tipsy Scout strolled by and slung his arm around Engie’s shoulder.

“Still workin’ on that one, eh, birthday boy?” Scout asked with a teasing smile.

“Don’t see a need to rush things along.” Engie said with a small shrug, dislodging Scout’s arm in the process.

“Fair enough. But it’s your special day, don’t ya wanna live a little?” Scout raised his eyebrows, smile widening.

Engie did want to live a little. He wouldn’t mind reveling at someone else’s birthday celebration. But his own?

To Engie’s right, Pyro nodded and made a noise in agreement, before going back to figuring out how to get the straw for their Shirley Temple behind their gas mask.

Engie looked down at his glass. Nearly empty.

“It’s not every day you turn, what--” Scout said, cocking his head to the side and giving Engie an appraising look, “sixty?”

Engie rolled his eyes. “Forty-five.”

“Really?” Scout asked, and Engie couldn’t be sure whether he was joking or not.

“Well, whatever”, Scout continued, “I ain’t sayin’ you should get hammered, but, like, join the festivities. Have fun. Play darts or somethin’, hell, I dunno.”

Engie rubbed his chin in thought.

The next time he spoke, it was to order a stronger drink.

Three hours later, the vast majority of the team was well and truly blasted.

The exceptions being: Pyro (had stuck to Shirley Temples and virgin strawberry daiquiris-- how they drank them, no one was sure), Spy (more tipsy than he’d care to let on, although not drunk), Medic (had a beer but otherwise fine), and Heavy (not enough alcohol in the bar to get him drunk, not that he was trying). 

There was laughing and joking and several incredibly ill-advised (but casualty free) games of darts.

Then, over the din of the bar, came an exceptionally loud crash. 

That was when all hell broke loose.

* * *

  


_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

Sniper’s eyes blinked open when a water droplet hit him in the dead-center of his forehead.

It was then that he realized he must’ve fallen asleep there on the shower floor of the locker room. 

He sat up too quickly, and the headache he hadn’t yet noticed he possessed strengthened considerably. He rubbed his temples as he stood, and looked down to see he was wearing only his pants. No shoes, no shirt.

He had an awful taste in his mouth, and knew he probably looked like crap.

Sniper walked across the cold tile floor to get a look at himself in the mirror. Sure enough, there were large, puffy bags under his eyes, and his hair was mussed and damp.

He did, indeed, look like crap.

He remembered the team hitting the bar for a celebration the night before. And he remembered tequila. Then he remembered a blur of lights and laughter and shouting then… nothing. He glanced down at his watch. Nearly eleven in the morning. He couldn’t recall a thing that had happened in the last fifteen hours.

Sniper had to find the rest of the team. 

His whole body ached as he plodded barefoot through the labarynthine hallways of the base. The fluorescent lights buzzing overhead were akin to a form of torture. 

He found Scout in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee. That was very uncharacteristic.

It was also very uncharacteristic for Scout to be wearing a wedding dress, and yet he was. It was white and lacy with some nice beadwork. 

Sniper was going to speak, when Scout raised a finger.

Sniper paused.

Scout poured back the whole mug without stopping to breathe. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Okay, let’s talk.” Scout said, voice a bit raw.

He sat down at the table, the dress poofing up beneath him as he did.

“How much do you remember? From last night?” Sniper asked, sitting opposite Scout at the table.

Scout released a short sigh. “Not much. I remember… runnin’ from… somethin’? And I remember bright lights. And I remember we made you take a shower and then that’s it.”

“Run that last part by me again?” Sniper asked, a little confused.

Scout scrunched his face in thought. After a beat, he responded. “I think me an’ Demo just shoved ya in the shower after you puked in the bushes and you said you’d take it from there, so Demo went off somewhere and then I took a nap. Now here we are.”

Sniper processed the information. “Well, that’s more than I knew before”, he said, leaving the table, “have you seen my boots by any chance?”

Scout stood up and strolled casually over to the door. “Buddy, I don’t even know where my _own_ clothes are. I crashed on the couch in the rec room. Can’t go into my room to change ‘cause my keys were in my pants pocket.”

“Where d’you think the rest of the team is?” Scout asked.

“Let’s check the infirmary first. Doc’ll probably be there, at least.”

So they made their way to Medic’s lab. When the duo passed a window in the hallway, Scout did a double take. “Dude, do you _see that_?” Scout said, pointing out the window.

Sniper followed Scout’s line of sight. The van was parked in front of the base, not in the parking lot. The van was also partially up on the curb, and there appeared to be some front-end damage. Still driveable, but definitely in need of some work.

“What the hell happened last night?” Sniper murmured.

Scout didn’t hear him. Or if he did, he didn’t reply.

They continued their walk.

Medic was chipper as usual and greeted Scout and Sniper when they entered the lab.

He gave Scout a onceover. “Did you already throw the bouquet?” Medic asked, trying his damndest not to laugh.

Scout huffed. “Hilarious. Really. Now if you could--”

Sniper put a hand on Scout’s shoulder in an effort to get him to shut up before he said something stupid. It worked. 

  
“Doc, we saw how the van was parked out front. Were you sober drivin’ back last night?” Sniper asked.

“Absolutely”, Medic said, holding his right hand up as if he were being sworn in as a witness, “I am just an awful driver.”

“Why didn’t ya mention that when we asked you to be the designated driver?” Scout asked, befuddled.

“No one asked.” Medic replied with a shrug.

“Well, regardless, you’re our best bet to find out what happened last night.” Sniper said.

Medic sighed. “Frankly, I don’t know what happened after you all were kicked out of the bar. I don’t even know _why_ you all were kicked out. Heavy and I were outside talking, and then the rest of the team came running. You two and Spy went off in the opposite direction. Scout, I believe you said you knew a shortcut?”

Sniper shot Scout a pointed look. Scout wilted a bit.

“Then what?” Scout asked.

“Maybe half an hour later the three of you returned, then I drove us back, and here we are.” Medic gestured to the room around them.

“Thanks for the info, mate.” Sniper replied, moving to tip his hat reflexively only to remember he wasn’t wearing it.

As Sniper and Scout moved to leave, Medic called after them.

“If you run into Soldier, could you send him this way, bitte? I’d like to get a look at his broken hand. And I can’t help but wonder if that has anything to do Spy’s broken nose?” Medic said the last sentence quietly, as though he was talking to himself, but he clearly meant to be heard.

Medic cleared his throat. “Anyways, good luck!”

They would need it.

“Dude, what the _fuck_ happened last night?” Scout announced loudly the second the duo was outside.

Sniper shrugged.

“So, like, none of us told Medic why we got kicked outta the bar? Musta been somethin’ bad.” Scout said softly.

“Bad for a normal person, or bad for us, do you reckon?” Sniper asked, eyebrow raised.

Scout stopped to consider.

Part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

“Who do we go see now? Truckie?” Sniper jerked his thumb in the general direction of Engie’s garage.

“Might as well.” Scout agreed.

They passed Demo in the hallway, and he seemed none the worse for wear despite the previous night’s events.

“Where are you two goin’, dressed like that? Must be a hell of a party.” Demo chortled.

“We’re goin’ to find out what happened at the bar, where are you goin’?” Scout asked.

“I was on me way to get some lunch, but I’ll come with you.” Demo said, and so the party gained a new member.

“Do you remember why we got kicked out of the bar?” Sniper asked.

“Nope! I think Soldier might’ve done something? But I _do_ remember you gettin’ motion sick from the good doctor’s drivin’ and upchuckin’ in the shrubbery.” Demo said, grinning.

Sniper flushed in embarrassment. “I, erm, knew about that second part. But that bit about Soldier is a new lead, at least.”

The three of them headed down the last hallway, and turned out of the base.

They stopped in front of the van to take a closer look. 

To satisfy the curiosity they all possessed, Scout opened the door to the back of the van.

The trio was greeted by the sound of… faint snoring?

Engie lay across the back seat of the van, fast asleep.

“Guess we don’t need to go to the garage after all.” Demo whispered.

Scout gently knocked on the metal side of the van.

Engie immediately bolted upright.

“What the--” Engie began, voice gravelly from sleep and disuse.

He turned to look at the other men, but it took his sleepy eyes a minute to focus.

“Aw, hell.” He muttered. 

Engie idly scratched the back of his head and looked around the interior of the van. “Any of you boys know what happened last night?” He asked, eighteen different types of confused.

“We were hopin’ you could tell _us_.” Scout admitted.

Engie shook his head. “I remember a whole lot of yellin’, that’s for sure. And other than that? Not much.”

“What happens now?” Scout asked.

“Y’all could go into town and retrace your steps.” Engie suggested.

“What’re we waitin’ for then? Let’s go!” Demo declared, climbing into the passenger seat of the van.

Scout frowned. He had been hoping to call shotgun.

Engie shifted how he sat, and noticed a few objects beneath the backseat.

“You lookin’ for these, Sniper?” Engie asked, holding up Sniper’s hat and boots.

“Yes, actually. Thanks.” Sniper said, taking his stuff. He plopped his hat on his head, but he awkwardly hopped a bit while trying to pull his boots onto his feet. He no longer cared about his lack of shirt.

Sniper offered to drive so Engie could keep sleeping.

Scout crawled into the backseat, the task looking infinitely more ridiculous and cumbersome because of the skirt of his wedding dress.

Engie looked at Scout and seemed to notice the dress for the first time. “That’s a… nice getup you have there, son.” He said a bit awkwardly.

“Who knew I’d make such a radiant bride?” Scout joked.

While Engie napped, the rest of the gang continued to wisecrack the whole drive into town, pretending they weren’t worried about what they might find when they arrived.

What appeared for all the world to be a shirtless cowboy, a slightly disheveled construction worker, an exuberant man with an eyepatch, and man in a poofy white wedding dress earned more than a few stares as the group walked down main street, towards the bar.

Sniper pushed open the door to the bar.

It was only the afternoon, so the bar was empty, save for a few employees getting the joint ready for the night.

The bartender, in the midst of cleaning a glass, got one look at the group and his expression immediately turned to blind fury. 

“I thought I told you sorry sons of bitches last night! Get your asses out of here this minute or I’m gettin’ the cops!” The bartender shouted, slamming his fist on the counter.

“Wait!”, Scout interjected, raising his hands defensively. “We just wanna know why we got kicked out.”

The bartender exhaled sharply, angrily through his nose. “Your idiot friend in the helmet committed some serious property damage. Happy now? Get the hell out.” 

“What did he--” Engie started.

The bartender poised himself to hurl the glass he held at the group.

The team slowly backed out of the door.

“So, what do we know, exactly?” Scout asked, hands on his hips as he stood on the curb outside the bar.

“We know Soldier got us kicked out of the bar,'' Sniper began, counting on his fingers, “then we know you, me, and Spy ran off in the opposite direction before comin’ back later. What we don’t know, is where we went after.”

“I get the feelin’ it was that way.” Demo said, pointing one street away, to where something red was stuck on the fence that closed off the alleyway.

The gang crossed the street to take a closer look.

Snagged on the top of the chain link fence, a good eight or so feet up, fluttering in the breeze, was Sniper’s shirt. 

“Well, we know you got this far, at least.” Engie said, chuckling. 

Sniper climbed up the fence, retrieved his shirt, and climbed back down.

“What we still don’t know is why Scout is wearing that dress.” Sniper mused, looking at his friend’s outfit. He slipped his torn shirt back on and buttoned it.

“I’d _really_ like to know the answer to that one.” Scout said, absentmindedly playing with a bead on his dress.

“I just thought of somethin’”, Engie began, looking quizzically at Scout, “have you tried takin’ that off yet?”

“I can’t take it off because I can’t get into my room to get changed because my keys were in my pants and I don’t know where my pants are.” Scout said all at once, exasperated.

“I think what he means, lad, is are ye sure yer not wearin’ your clothes under that frock?” Demo asked, mirthful twinkle in his eye.

Scout pulled the collar back and peered down the front of the dress. He was, as a matter of fact, still wearing the lower half of his uniform. All the color ran out of his face.

Demo guffawed.

Scout unzipped the dress and wriggled out. He found his uniform shirt stuffed in the left back pocket on his pants, and put it on. 

“That’s one mystery solved.” Engie said.

The four men crossed the street again, and headed back to the van.

On the way there, Scout stuffed the dress into a charity donation box.

“Do you think Soldier broke Spy’s nose like Doc seems to think?” Scout asked.

“Wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Remind me to shake Soldier’s hand when it’s all healed.” Sniper replied, laughing.

“Do you think we’ll ever know everythin’ that went down last night?” Engie asked, brow furrowed.

“Doubt it.” Demo replied, grinning. “Speakin’ from experience, anyway.”

* * *

Eleven o’clock, Friday night.

Approximately eighteen hours earlier.

“... it’s just those damn parts catalogues they send me, y’know?” Engie complained, hand partially covering his face. “Nothin’ _ever_ comes in the mail the way it looks in the catalogue. And I’ve been waitin’ weeks for some pipes with a specific diameter! It’s the principle of the damn thing.”

Spy nodded solemnly. Engie had been rattling on with technical jargon for the better part of half an hour, and Spy had been nodding politely and occasionally saying “I see.”

Soldier excused himself from the table to use the little general’s room, and not long after that, Scout excused himself to belly up to the bar. 

Sitting at the bar was a morose-looking thirty-something woman slumped over a mostly empty Hurricane glass. At her feet was a large brown paper shopping bag.

"Bad day?" Scout asked, trying for small talk while he waited for his drink.

"Got stood up." She said through slurred speech. "Left at the altar." She jabbed at an ice cube with her straw.

"Oh, jeez. I'm sorry." Scout said softly, feeling both sympathetic and uncomfortable.

"Don't be", the woman said, "I'm not. He was a rat bastard and I'm glad I know that know." She paused, and silence took over.

The bartender put down Scout's drink. Scout put down his money and took a sip.

"The point is, I don't have a use for this anymore. And you look about my size, so here you go." She ceremoniously dropped the shopping bag onto Scout's lap.

Now Scout might've been into folks on the rebound, but he wasn't about to hit on someone who was meant to be married earlier that day.

Scout peeked inside the bag to see what was obviously a wedding dress. "I, uh, don't think I have a use for this either." He said a bit sheepishly

"Then give it to someone who will." She shrugged. "But you'll try it on first, won't you?" The woman joked, a bit of a smile breaking out on her face.

Scout was definitely past the point of inebriation where inhibitions go out the window. "Why the hell not?" He said with a laugh. He tossed back the rest of his drink, and paper bag in hand, walked into the men's room.

Wedding dress on, Scout stepped out of the stall. It was then that he heard an awful crashing sound, coupled with pipes groaning and water spurting.

He turned his head to see that Soldier had just ripped a sink out of the wall.

_"What the fuck."_ Scout whispered.

"Don't just stand there, princess. Give me a hand." Soldier barked. Sink in hand, he gestured for Scout to open the door.

Water was gushing from the piece of broken pipe still in the wall, and was starting to pool at their feet.

"Why?" Was all Scout could say.

"It's for Engie." Soldier said, as if the answer was obvious. “He said he needed a pipe.”

“He probably didn’t mean for you to rip one out of the _frickin wall_ , ya lunatic!” Scout nearly shrieked, raking a hand through his hair.

“He had a problem and I had a solution.” Soldier said casually. 

“What’s goin’ on with your hand, man?” Scout asked, pointing to the messed-up digits on Soldier’s right hand.

Soldier looked down at his hand. “I believe I have broken a few fingers. But that is a problem for later!” He laughed triumphantly and kicked open the bathroom door.

A small tidal wave of water followed him out the door.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN’ ON AROUND HERE?” The bartender shouted.

Scout peeked his head out of the bathroom door.

The whole bar was silent, all eyes on Soldier.

He very slowly put the sink down.

“All of you at the far table, GET OUT!” A vein bulged in the bartender’s neck.

The bulk of the team marched sadly out the door.

Sniper was still asleep at the table, and Spy was making an effort to neaten up the table a bit to make it easier for the server.

Scout emerged from the bathroom.

“C’mon, it’s our friend’s birthday and this is the last bar in town that’ll serve us. This is just a little misunderstanding, right?” Scout appealed, sheepish.

The bartender narrowed his eyes at Scout. “If you don’t get your scrawny ass out of here in the next thirty seconds, I’ll break your fuckin’ legs. Then I’ll call the cops.” 

Spy silently stepped into place next to Scout. “Do not speak to the boy like that. We will leave peacefully.” Spy said evenly, though there was venom in his tone. 

Spy grabbed Scout by the elbow to try and escort him out. 

“I’d like to see you try, buddy.” Scout said, challenging the bartender’s gaze.

“Maurice, take care of these clowns.” The bartender spat to a very muscular barback. 

Maurice leaped over the counter. 

Scout readied his stance. 

Spy woke up Sniper by smacking him in the head before grabbing Scout, and the three of them ran off into the street, pursued by Maurice.

“This way!” Scout called, and the trio took off down a street to the right, Scout slowing his pace to match that of Sniper and Spy. 

When they reached the fenced-off alleyway, Scout lead the charge over the fence. Despite his drunken discoordination, he hiked up the skirt of his dress and ambled over the fence with relative ease.

Sniper was a little less lucky, his shirt catching on the top of the fence. He wriggled out of it before dropping down the rest of the way.

Spy was even unluckier than Sniper, and had lost his balance on the way down. He fell the full eight feet down, his fall thankfully being cushioned by the dumpster he landed in. Unfortunately, however, upon impact, he smashed his nose against the side of the dumpster. Spy crawled out of the dumpster, smelling a little funky and nose pouring blood. He soon caught up with Scout and Sniper, who had waited for him.

They kept up their little jog, going down this street and that, even when it seemed like Maurice wasn’t chasing them anymore.

They started to doubleback to the van and the rest of the team, now at a more leisurely pace.

“I just wanted Engie to have a good birthday, man.” Scout sighed, defeated.

“We all did. But don’t feel bad”, Spy said, wiping blood from his face, “this idea was doomed from the start.”

Sniper laughed in spite of the situation. “At least we’ll have one hell of a story to tell tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please leave kudos/ a comment if you're so inclined! you can find me on tumblr @teleported-bread.
> 
> have a nice day! <3


End file.
